Are Weimaraners Narcicissts?

Does a bear s***! In the woods? When I am lying on the couch with my back toward this oversized photograph of Olive and she is sitting on the couch like a lawn ornament facing me, I see her eyes ever so casually glance upward in the direction of this photo. “ADMIRING YOURSELF OLIVE?” I say. Her eyes glance back down and look at my face just for a split second or two before she re-directs her gaze back above my head. She can’t help herself. I don’t blame her. She is beautiful.